


Words Written in Blood

by Oscar_Wilde_Inspired



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oscar_Wilde_Inspired/pseuds/Oscar_Wilde_Inspired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The papers are calling it a cult abduction, calling it a bizarre hazing ritual that took the life of all eight pack members. Except that’s not quite true. No, they’re alive alright. Stiles can prove it ‘cause he’s seen them every night outside him bedroom staring up at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words Written in Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a gifset I saw on Tumblr where instead of usual Stiles being a demon everyone else was a demon and it was left up to Stiles to save them. 
> 
> *Kind of sort of character death but not really.

It’s about two days later, two days after the pack meeting Stiles had skipped, that Stiles really notices that something is wrong. Not wrong just off. Everything is off…everyone is off. There is a tingle somewhere deep down under his skin that is trying to tell him something. Something about the way Allison’s head gets thrown back too far when she laughs. About the way Isaac, Erica, and Boyd don’t fit together quite like they did. A puzzle that has been forced together its edges all jagged and missed matching. Lydia and Jackson are too stiff not the smooth catlike grace that is their basic nature. Derek and Scott too close, smiling too much, calm enough around each other that they don’t need Stiles yelling at one of them to go away and calm down. And really it’s Derek that really sets it all off. Derek too close to Stiles hands touching constantly, laughing at his jokes, smiling at him. There is something so very off.

It takes another two days after that for Stiles to realize that the little bit he thought was off was something wholly and completely off. Something so far off that he would’ve never thought about it had it not been for the large, frankly terrifying looking, symbol painted on the top of an old train car. Stiles would not have even been up there had it not been for the little stash of Monkshood that he kept up there. It was a back up stash just in case something happened to the larger one Stiles had at his house. You never know when some rogue werewolves would come traipsing into town looking to challenge the resident alpha for dominance.  


It had taken all of three seconds for it to click that this wasn’t Derek’s latest attempt of warding the abandoned place against ghost and other nasty supernatural creatures that seem to be turning up at an alarming rate these days.  


No Stiles recognized this one and oh how he wished he did not. Dread curled in the bottom of his stomach as he clutched the bag to his chest.  


He had stumbled across it while he had been helping Derek research warding symbols to put up around the now den for the pack. It was a summoning sigil, a calling to something so much worse then a rogue wolf or a Silkie trying to find a new pelt to try on for a while.  


This was a creature that Stiles had never encountered; that he was certain didn’t even exist until a few seconds ago.  


“Shit” the word is uttered low and broken as he curls in on himself on the top of the train car. He can’t do this, he can’t handle this. This is too much, too much for him to take on himself. He’s the researcher, the fact finder, the one that forms and plots and schemes. He’s the one that yells orders through the radio and runs in quickly while everyone is distracted by blood and arrows to steal what is their. He is the one to deliver the killing blow only after the beast has been incapacitated and only after Stiles has done everything in his power to convince the creature to leave; to go in peace. That is his skill, words he can talk and mix and mingle. To create deals and treaties out of thin air. He has the ability to lay it down in blood but he can’t do this. He can’t handle this on his own. He needs his pack, needs Scott, needs Allison, needs Lydia and her teasing her annoyed huffs, Jackson’s eye rolls and never ending insults. Needs Isaac, Boyd, and Erica sliding their hands along his back to calm him down as he tries to tie a plan together. Needs Derek to tell him to go home, to go to sleep, not that Stiles listens.  


The sound of feet hitting against the split pavement has Stiles up and moving. All at once the pack is there as if from thin air. They’re all looking up at him an eerily similar expression on all their faces.  


There’s a clash of thunder outside, Stiles vaguely remembering a storm warning being issued earlier. That’s why he had come here; to move his stash so it wouldn’t get soaked in the storm. When Stiles looks back at his pack all of their eyes are black, there’s a small snake like smile on all their faces. And after all the trouble with Jackson in his Kanima form Stiles really can’t take it.  


He’s up and out of the escape hatch he had forced Derek to install in case of emergencies months ago before the lightening slashes through the sky. He hears someone yelling after him, a voice that he recognizes, belonging to someone he knows and it takes all he has not to turn back to that voice, calling his name.  


That night in the pouring rain Stiles lays a line of wolfs bane mixed with salt around his house. The rain slams down against him and the lightening shatters the sky as the thunder makes his teeth gash against each other. It sounds like the heavens are mad at him, mad at him for not noticing earlier, for not realizing that his friends are all gone, that these monsters had replaced them. Monster replaced by something straight from nightmares Stiles thinks idly. Because yes his friends might have had been cut from the same supernatural material but they were so vastly different.  


Stiles sits inside that night, legs crossed utterly still as he stares out the window. Wind slams tree branches against the glass. Something inside him starts screaming that the glass will break, the line won’t hold. He pushes it down though because he can’t think like that, he has to believe that they will hold. He had willed with every bone in his body for the salt and wolfs bane to stay in place. Had used every trick Deaton had taught him over the last two years to make sure that it would stay despite the almost biblical amounts of rain that is crashing down onto the earth.  


A clap of thunders slams through the air and the lights flicker once, twice, three times before dying. Stiles doesn’t even get to two before the lightening rips a jagged scar through the sky. And when Stiles looks outside he sees eight silhouettes standing across from his house, their heads upturned. Stiles doesn’t need to see their eyes to know they are blacker then pitch, blacker then coal.  


He skips his graduation next week; his dad makes a face at him tries to cajole him out of the house. Begs him to go camera gripped tightly in his hand. Stiles doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he can’t go because if they do one of them wouldn’t make it back alive. His pack, the demons Stiles corrects himself, had made that abundantly clear when a human heart had turned up in his mailbox with a little plastic graduation cap pinned to it.  


Stiles wonder how Mellissa is taking to Scott just disappearing. How Lydia’s, Jackson’s, Boyd’s, Erica’s, Allison’s parents are taking to the fact their missing kids are only a few miles away from them. There is a missing persons report out on all 6 of them. Isaac and Derek haven’t been reported missing because they only have each other and no one is really sure if Isaac or Derek is even alive anymore. His dad had protested it saying that Derek and Isaac would never take off like that. No one in the station believes him. Why would they given both of their track records?  


Stiles ignores his dads attempt at bribing him, pacifies him when he starts to ask if there is something wrong if Stiles might need some professional help because he hasn’t left the house once all week. He comforts his dad when the bottle of Jack is nearly gone and his cheeks are streaked with tears. Over the last two years his dad has come to think of the pack as his sort of adopted kids. They might as well be. They came rushing through the house at all hours of the night, always stealing Stiles, stealing food. He feels he failed them in so many ways. He just doesn’t understand how eight people can go missing all at once and leave no evidence behind.  


The papers are calling it a cult abduction, calling it a bizarre hazing ritual that took the life of all eight pack members. At first they blamed Derek but his dad had squelched those rumors down so fast that it made Stiles head spin. Stiles was lucky they say because he was visiting his dead mothers grave, he was lucky they say because it had been her birthday and he had been broken down sobbing over her grave while his friends were brutally murdered.  


Except that’s not quite true, the part about his mothers grave is true, but not the murder part. No, they are still alive alright. Stiles can prove it ‘cause he’s seen them every night outside his bedroom window staring up at him.  


Until one night it all clicks. Everything just falls into place.  


He had been talking to Deaton asking him how come they hadn’t tried to kill him, his father, tried to get past the ever weakening line of salt and wolfs bane.  


They aren’t trying to kill him. No these creatures that are violating his friends bodies are just pawns in a much bigger game.  


Who put the mark on the train car?  


Who would know that Stiles would not be there on that once specific day of the year?  


Who knew that beneath Stiles veins thrum a magic that if given the right outlet is deadlier then any nuclear bomb?  


That fucker is going to pay.  


He sends out a note, a paper airplane floating on a directed drift of wind. Derek’s hand flashes up and snatches it effortlessly out of the air. He unfolds the paper and looks up at him with a grin that is too sharp, showing too much teeth, spreading across his face.  


They quickly fall back; Allison dragging her crossbow after her.  


Stiles prepares as the sun goes down. Sends one last email to contact he’s been speaking to for the last month. Thanking him for the Latin translations and wishing him luck on finding his brothers angelic friend.  


The smell of cool fresh air hits Stiles in the face and he takes a deep breath of clean air for the first time in way too long. His dad had left long ago promising to bring home some hamburgers and curly fries for Stiles because Stiles had promised his dad that today was the day he would go outside. That he would walk with sure feet and a purpose. He just hopes that he will be there to enjoy the fries after all this is done and over with.  
It seems odd to be back in the place after such a long time away. A place that once seemed like a second home but now only sends shivers down his spine. The entire area just throws off a vibe of not right, of something unholy infesting it.  


And this is what it is, an infestation, one that Stiles is going to for once and for all get rid off.  
They’re spanned out in a half circle when he enters the area that once was reserved for training. For Allison to practice her archery, for Boyd and Derek to compete on who was better at flipping off things backwards. For Stiles and Scott to practice Lacrosse even though Scott was team captain and Stiles was first string. Scott and Stiles had both gotten full Lacrosse scholarships from the local state college. Turns out running for your life and avoiding poisonous darts from Amazonian monster was really good practice for Lacrosse.  


But now it’s all tainted. Everything is tinged with a darkness that will never scrub away.  


“I want my friends back” Stiles growls as he comes to a halt in front of his once pack, all of their eyes are black and it makes something sick twist inside Stiles.  


It’s Scott that speaks first “We can be your friends Stiles.” His name sounds wrong on the creatures tongue, on the thing that is forcing, ripping, Scotts voice out of his own throat. There is something behind the eyes when it flashes back to normal, something desperate something that does not belong to the creature. An overwhelming sense of hope wells up inside Stiles.  


“No, I already have friends and they’re irritating and annoying and get love struck way too easily but they are mine.” His voice is louder this time and the eight in front of him start fidgeting uneasily.  


It’s Allison next “We can be stronger together, so much better.”  


“I am already strong.” Stiles answers as he notes the way Allison’s hair is matted and unkempt. She was going to be so pissed when she got back.  


Erica, Boyd, and Isaac are next, the three of them standing close but close enough. The creatures inside aren’t able to replicate the natural ease the threesome had fallen into together, in more then one way. “Don’t you miss us Stiles, so many days and weeks holed up alone? Don’t you want your pack back?”  


“That’s exactly what I came for tonight.” Their eyes switch between normal and black a few times and a pained look stretches across their faces.  


Lydia and Jackson, their breaths coming in short and pained “You won’t be strong enough to defeat us but if you join us it won’t hurt.”  


Stiles doesn’t answer, doesn’t get the chance to because suddenly Derek is right there in front of him. His head bent low, his mouth and nose mapping along Stiles shoulder.  


“Come on Stiles” Derek’s voice is low and needy, there is something underneath something slimy and black and unearthly. It makes Stiles skin crawl. “Just give in, it’s so much easier, you don’t have to deal with anything ever again. You don’t have to deal with the blood and tears and sweat. Don’t have to deal with not being useful. About being left behind, used and tossed aside once Derek has found what he needs from you. You can be free, powerful. You could get back at him for not appreciating you. You can control him.”  


Stiles grinds down on the back of teeth “Do you really think I would let Derek use me for anything I didn’t want? Do you really think that Derek posses that much strength? You don’t even posse that much strength.”  


The creature rears back ready to attack forcing Derek’s change; forcing the wolf into the world. A horrid cry breaks out and it reminds him of the first night, with the thunder. It’s Derek wolf, it’s howling in pain. In pain of being forced to transform, the pain of being harnessed by a creature so evil.  


Stiles takes a step back fills his lungs up with air and shouts “Stops” as loud as he possibly can. All eight of them freeze at once, shifted halfway between human and wolf. The two humans resemble manikins. Their eyes are wide and worried and beneath something feral and wild rips at them. The wolves are trying to get out and the humans are clawing desperately back up trying to fight for their bodies back.  


“I know who you are” Stiles voice echoes throughout the abandoned storage area. A few seconds later his Ipod, that had been hidden on a crossbeam in the ceiling, slams into the ground and shatters into a thousand different pieces. That had cost a lot of money.  


“It’s too late” Stiles yells back “they’re already under my spell. You should’ve done your research. Should’ve looked harder and seen the words written in blood around this town, the protection that has been sung into the very fabric of this land. You’ve know me for years; you should’ve known that my words are more then that now, they are binding, they are powerful. They are magic.” The last word echoes throughout the once Den. Once this is all over with Stiles doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to set foot back in here. Stiles waits his breath uneven, eyes glancing every few milliseconds over at his still frozen friends.  


Ms. Morell steps forward, out of the darkness, a shark like grin rippling across her face. She steps over the edge of a cross beam and instead of falling drifts slowly towards the ground. Her feet don’t make a sound as they touch the dirty floor.  


“After all you’re the one that helped Deaton draw out my powers.”  


“Oh Stiles” she says her voice still light and calm like it always has been. Deaton had warned him about her told him not to get too close. That Deaton was bound to her in ways that Stiles could not understand but Stiles wasn’t yet. Stiles had taken head of his words and cut Ms. Morell out of his life and now she was back. She had harmed his friends and she would pay. “We could be so powerful together. I tried once before but you cast me out. I’m stronger now, I’ve got followers. We could rule this town together, we could rule the whole of existence together. The power that is trapped beneath your human body is frightening. You and I together would be unstoppable.”  


“What you’ve done is unforgivable” Stiles feels likes a hurricane inside, all power and rage and anger crashing around. Something old and ancient, something that affects his very DNA. “You stole my friends bodies from them, took away their free will, made them murder.” After the heart on his gradation day there had been more, fingers, toes, teeth, livers, kidneys. All disposed off by Deaton before Stiles father could ever catch wind of it. They had shown up in convenient places linked to missing persons. Mostly homeless people and drifters. But the last one had been from a little girl from down Stiles street. A little girl that spent nearly all day helping 

Derek and him color the sidewalk with chalk last summer.  


“You took innocent lives. I could’ve forgave you for taking over their bodies but that little girl had nothing to do with this and for that I can’t let you go unpunished.” Stiles could feel it; it always started in his toes and quickly moved upwards until his until body was one low thrum of electricity his mouth being the focal point.  


“I gave them something better” Ms. Morell shouted back, over the blood roaring in Stiles ears. “I gave them strength. Allison has all the strength she will ever want, Scott has his girlfriend and his friends by his side forever. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Lydia and Jackson all have a family now. A family that wants them, that will never leave them.”  


“And what does Derek have?” Stiles asked because he needed more time and some sick twisted part of him wanted to know what Ms. Morell thought she was giving Derek.  


“Peace” she answered effortlessly “he has peace from the sound of fire crackling, from the smell of ash suffocating him, from the screams of his family begging for him to save them. I gave him absolution. And with you he can be happy; with you he can be free of everything. And you, you will never be tossed aside and unloved again. They would all obey you, adore you. Derek would love you the way you love him.”  


Stiles looked over at Derek at his face contorted between human and wolf. At his eyes that were tinged with a faint coloring of red. There was something there something just below the surface below the creature riding shotgun. Something wholly Derek and it was screaming at him fight to not to give in.  


Squaring his shoulders Stiles rounded on Ms. Morell. “I am giving you a choice Ms. Morell either you let me strip you of your powers and flee this town or you won’t make it outside alive.”  


Her laugh is like the sound of glass breaking and her eyes flash red. Dammed it Stiles hated it when they chose the second option. He feels the blast of power that slams into the walls that he’s been constructing around him. He had stalled long enough to build a defense. Now it was the time to take the offence.  


“Agather Morell, you have been given fair warning. You have been given a choice that you have chosen to ignore” his voice rises louder in volume and a wind that is not from the holes in the ceiling rips through the storage area.  


Now she looks frightened, she didn’t know that Stiles knew her real name. It had come as a costly trade to Deaton, a trade that would hopefully not cost him his friends’ lives. Names contain power, so much power. Once you knew someone’s name, had a piece of them, had a drop of blood you controlled every fiber of their being.  


A flash of light and piece of metal dripping in blood slams into Stiles hand. Ms. Morell clutched at her stomach as blood dripped down onto the ground.  


“You have chosen to ignore the options laid out before you.” Stiles voice is loud and sure, confident in the darkness. “You have violated the sanctity of life, have taken away what was not yours, and for that I strip you of your powers demon.” Her eyes seem to stutter and die out as a billowing cloud of red smoke shoots into the air. “I strip you of your rank in Hell” the cloud pulses forward, towards Stiles but it bounces off the barriers he set up. Ms. Morells body is floating in the air arms spread wide, hair whipping around like angry snakes.  


“I cast you back into the pits not as a guardian of the damned but as one of the damned” Stiles stretches his arm outside beside him motioning towards were his friends still stand frozen, the spell that had been on loop from his Ipod, still working its magic on them. “I curse these eight as your guards so you may never see the sun again or feel the breeze up on your face.”  


Ear shattering screams tear at the defenses Stiles has up as the demons inside his friends are cast out into billows of smoke. They smash and slam into each other. They surge forward towards the cloud of red smoke. There is a struggle, short lived and futile but a struggle none the less, and the redness is swallowed up by the darkness. The curse Stiles cast on them stronger then the demon that fought against it. Ms. Morells body hits the ground, hard.  


“I cast you back into hell accursed beings.” They rear up, blocking out the ceiling the escape hatch, before plunging into the ground. The earth shakes and rumbles and splits open. Through the crack that has opened up in the earth Stiles can hear the screaming of countless souls can feel the sensation of thousands upon thousands entities of evil reaching up towards him, towards his power. He is a sun to their ever lasting night.  
In a voice that rivals the thunder Stiles issues forth a command unto the portion of Hell that is leaking into this world. “I am the protector of this town, of this pack, I am the weaver of words and contracts. And even when I die I shall still be here protecting this world. If I see any of your kind on my land I will make Hell seem like a Heaven.”  


Stiles takes in a deep breath, the piece of metal still gripped tight in his hand, the blood from Ms. Morell burned up in the spell. Now is his turn to pay the price, now is his turn to sacrifice what he promised for Ms. Morell’s name. Blood magic is much stronger then spoken magic.  


Turning towards his friends Stiles lets his eyes linger on each one giving Scott a small nod before stopping on Derek. His face is human again; he’s struggling against the spell that is still coursing through his body. His mouth keeps moving, silent words that Stiles is really trying not make out.  


“I love you” he tells them, his pack, his friends, his family, to his father at the station, to Derek who is wide eyed and clawing desperately against the magic in his system.  


It’s surprisingly easy, with a little push from magic Stiles easily cuts through his flesh and through bone. He can feel the metal pierce his heart, can feel it push against the foreign object. He can feel the life ebb out of him; can see it in the blood that spills onto the ground inching towards the crack in the ground. He watches as it touches the crack sealing up, knitting the ground back together can feel the contract that had been placed on the ground. The protection that settles over the town.  


He can see his life ebb out of him as Derek breaks free of the spell and rushes forward bursting through the barriers ignoring the way his hair and clothes spark and embers burn away at him. He can feel it as his hands go slack and he starts to fall. He braces himself for the impact with the ground but it never comes.  
“Stiles” Derek barks, his hands wrapped around Stiles shoulders slowly guiding him to the ground. “You fucking idiot!” He screams at him. The edges of Stiles vision is starting to go black.  


The others are beside him now, he can hear someone crying, he thinks it might be Isaac the boy was never good with death. Stiles always made him leave while Stiles and Derek dealt the final blow. Allison has her face hidden in Scott’s shoulder. Lydia’s hands are shaking as she reaches out for the scrap of metal barely sticking out of Stiles chest.  


“What the hell were you thinking?” Derek’s fingers are digging into his skin and Stiles is glad that he can still feel that at least.  
“I knew” Stiles stops and starts coughing, specks of blood hit Derek in the face. “Pull it out please” he ask Lydia “please” he begs. He can feel his heart stuttering around it, he wants the thing that had that is tainted with demons blood out of him. Lydia looks at Derek who growls at her. “Stop it Derek” Stiles warns and then nods to Lydia. Stiles feels like he can breathe again finally. The metal was pressing against his lung. Not that he should be complaining since he was going to bleed out in a few minutes anyways.  


“Stiles” Scott’s voice is a low whine as he presses his palms to Stiles cheek, reminiscent of how Scott and hell everyone else in the pack used to scent mark him. He doesn’t want admit it but he’s going to miss that. “Why?” he begs. Allison is clutching his shoulder as he leans down.  


“Someone had to save your sorry asses” Stiles grins and Scott gives him the worst fake smile back ever. “Something had to be sacrificed; someone had to give themselves up to offer protection to this town. I…at least I was good for something in the end huh?”  


Derek is growling again “You are a god damned idiot Stiles. You were always good for something, you didn’t need to go kill yourself to prove some stupid ego trip.” Derek’s eyes keep flashing red like he can’t control himself. “You were always the strongest of us, always the one that would never back down, give in. You’re the…” Stiles could see Derek’s adams apple bob as he swallows. And Stiles could almost swear there are tears in his eyes “You’re the only damned reason the pack has even made it this far. What are we supposed to do without you now?” The question comes out in broken words and too shallow breaths.  


Stiles can’t help the soft smile that blooms on his face “You’ll be fine Derek…you’ll be fine, you don’t need me.”  


“I do” Derek’s voice is low in his throat, Stiles doesn’t miss the way he says I instead of we. It sounds like something is rattling around deep inside Derek. Like a Lego in a heater vent. “I need you Stiles, I’ve always needed you.” Something warm and wet presses against his lips and it takes a second for him to realize that it’s Derek’s lips and they’re wet because he’s been crying. The kiss taste like salt and promises that can never be fulfilled. And in Stiles last seconds he regrets nothing in his life. The note he has left for his dad is sitting on the kitchen counter will say that he went out for a jog, went to go see if he can find any evidence of his friends. When they find his body in the morning next to Ms. Morell’s they’ll think that she killed him. That he had stumbled across her holding his friends and tried to free them and in the end sacrificed his life for them.  


As the light slips away and the sensation of Derek’s lips pressed against his disappear he feels nothing other then contentment. Happiness that Derek doesn’t try to offer him the bite because they had talked about it and no matter what happens Derek was never to bit Stiles. He is ready to go, he is so young but he has done what he has needed. His town, his friends, his pack, his dad, Derek will be safe forever and Stiles will watch over them.  


The last thing he hears is an echoing chorus of howls ringing through the air.

 

“The official released statement from the Beacon Hills Sheriff department is that Maggy Morell, guidance counselor at Beacons Hills High School, had drugged and kidnapped eight former students of hers. They say that she had been planning on ritually sacrificing them. Investigators found numerous Satanic looking markings throughout the entire abandoned storage area. This report might have read very differently if it hadn’t been the heroic actions of Sheriffs Stilinski’s own son who prefers to be called Stiles. But thanks to Stiles who happened on the scene before anything horrible happened eight lives are safe from harm. Stiles himself however…”

The sheriff switched off the TV, tossing the remote down on the couch. Rubbing his hands over his eyes he tried to will away the dull throb that was currently making its self know in his right temple.  
Everything he had found out today was just now hitting him. When he had stumbled into that warehouse he had nearly collapsed. His sons’ friends all looked towards him in shock. Their faces contorted into something not human. Only Allison and Lydia still looked normal.  


Werewolves, Kanima, witches, demons, and his own sons magic powers; everything like an atom bomb on his normalcy. And his son, oh god is still hurts to think about him. Something tight and drawn sharp that will never go away stung in his chest.  


His wonderful, hyperactive, annoying, privacy impaired, beautiful son. So much blood, so fucking much blood.  


Shaking his head the Sheriff rolled his head sideways on the couch to the sound of soft snoring. He was certain that was Lydia, not that she would ever admit to it. They had all insisted on coming back here, to his house, Stiles house after the cameras and interviews and frantic parents.  


On the living room floor they were all passed out on each other. Jackson and Lydia wrapped around each other, Allison clutching onto Lydia as Scott pressed his self against her. Isaac, Boyd, and Erica draped across each other so you couldn’t tell where one began or the other ended. All three were in contact with the other parts of the group. Legs, toes, fingers, arms all touching each other. And Derek. The alpha they had said. His strong frame was in middle of the entire pile, anchoring them all. Arms wrapped possessively around a softly breathing body. Around Stiles.  


The sheriff had burst into the warehouse, Deaton by his side. The vet had come into his house and pulled him out saying he knew where the missing kids were being held. They had got there just as a small pulse of light had started to leak from Stiles who was lying on the ground. There was so much blood, Derek was covered in it, it was on his lips, his face, his chest. It coated the ground in thick sheets. Ms. Morell’s body who he vaguely recognized from parent teachers night, lay sprawled across the ground like someone had dropped her there.  


He had rushed forward, towards his son, his unmoving son but Deaton had held him back. He had started to fight but Deaton was strong, stronger then any man his age should. In desperation he had called out his sons name begged him not to be dead. He couldn’t take it; he could not bury his son. Couldn’t bury the only thing good he had left in his life.  


Deaton had called for all the kids to move away and after a few seconds they obeyed. None of them looked happy about it. The light grew brighter and brighter until it the sheriff and the rest of the kids had to close their eyes.  


It felt like a sun exploded behind his eyelids. When he opened his eyes it took a few seconds to see anything but a blinding white light.  


A choked gasp broke the silence in the warehouse as Stiles surged upwards, his eyes glowing bright white. He blinked a few times and the light disappeared, it took the glow on his skin a while longer to disappear.  


“What? What happened?” Stiles asked looking around, bewildered at his gaping friends. “Last thing I remember was that sour face was kissing me.” Stiles lazily pointed to Derek who looked like someone had just sucker punched him in the gut. Later the Sheriff would have to talk a little talk with Derek about that kissing thing. “Then a bunch of really weird sounding voices were yelling at me then BAM they drop kick me back into my body.”  


“Only you would annoy someone so much they would kick you out of the afterlife” Derek voice was soft but it was filled with something that the sheriff did not want to think about something right now.  


“It wasn’t the afterlife” Deaton announced, the ever peaceful look on his face “it was the guardians.”  


“The what was that? Because it was bright and I” Stiles stopped for a second eyes darting to his dad “…I saw my mom.” It felt the air had been sucked out of the room and sheriff couldn’t stop his eyes from roving upwards. “She was so beautiful.” Patting his chest down where moments ago there had been a gaping hole with blood leaking out Stiles grinned at his dad.  


“The guardians” Deaton explained calmly “they are the ones that watch over supernatural creatures, and humans with magic. Like you and your mom. They were telling you that you had done a noble deed sacrificing yourself. They rewarded you with a second chance at life. Magic powers intact in fact they should be stronger then ever.”  


“Oh” Stiles stated simply like someone had just told him he won five bucks instead of being brought back from the dead. “How the hell do you know all that?” Stiles face morphed into shock and when the sheriff looked beside him Deaton was gone. Stiles started to stand up and Derek was right beside him slipping his hand Stiles waist pulling up to his feet. Stiles looked sheepishly over at his dad an unsure smile on his face. “Hey dad I think there are few things I might need to tell you.”


End file.
